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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24965596">NITESKY</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/keishn/pseuds/keishn'>keishn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>someone to stay [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, by angst with a happy ending i should clarify and call it 'somewhat' happy, mentions of Noctis, takes place during the timeskip</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:56:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,277</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24965596</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/keishn/pseuds/keishn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why did you do that?" he asks. He means it to sound chastising, annoyed that Gladio could do something so <i>stupid,</i> but it comes out breathless and worried instead. His fingers curl into the skin of Gladio's sides, just under his ribcage.</p><p>"Couldn't let you get hurt," Gladio replies, freely, like it's simple.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum, Prompto Argentum &amp; Ignis Scientia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>someone to stay [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806925</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>NITESKY</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Prompto gets used to the darkness surrounding them all the time, in every direction. Endless darkness. It's <em>affecting </em>in ways he'd never expected. </p><p>He misses the sun, but he's getting to the point where he can predict the bouts of depression that the eternal night brings with it. Enough that he's used to it. The loneliness is worse than the darkness if he's honest. </p><p>He finds himself always wanting to reach over and nudge Noctis' shoulder, to make a joke to Gladio, to ask Ignis what's cooking. And Noctis is— Well, no one knows how to finish that sentence. Least of all Prompto. He dwells on it some nights. What happened to Noctis? When is he coming back? <em>Is</em> he coming back? He hadn't realized just how much his best friend meant to him until this all happened.</p><p>He misses Noctis so much that the feeling claws itself out of his chest, piercing his heart with its talons. </p><p>Gladio and Ignis, at least, are still around though not always geographically close by. They'd split up months ago, each with their own things to worry about and work on. Prompto misses them, too. He and Gladio were reluctant to leave Ignis in his condition, which made Ignis all the more sure that it was necessary. He couldn't overcome his blindness if the two of them were continually hovering and making sure he had everything he needed at all times.</p><p>So Prompto helps refugees heading to Lestallum from all directions. And Gladio goes off to hunt daemons and frequently check up on Iris. </p><p>They occasionally end up in the same place at the same time on accident, but they also have a standing appointment. Once a month, they all meet at Hammerhead. It was Ignis' idea, a way to make sure they'd all know how to find the others should Noctis return to them. <em>When,</em> Prompto corrects himself. <em>When</em> Noctis returns to them. </p><p>The glowing lights of the gas station blur together in the distance, but Prompto recognizes the shape of the sign. He breathes a sigh of relief at having made it back, but a loud sound rings out through the dark. Metal scraping against metal. He turns in the direction of the sound and sees a daemon. Someone is fighting it, and as Prompto approaches, grabbing Death Penalty from its holster, he realizes he recognizes the person. Or he recognizes the sword first and Gladio second. </p><p>He shoots the daemon in its face, and it turns its attention away from Gladio, toward him. </p><p>"Hey, Blondie!" Gladio yells. "What took you so long?" </p><p>Prompto reloads and shoots. "Oh, you know," he calls back, "Just every daemon in existence deciding to show up between here and Lestallum." </p><p>Gladio swings his sword in an arc over his head and jumps at the daemon. This final blow does the thing in, and it dematerializes before them.</p><p>Gladio stands over it, panting. The tattoos on his chest expand and contract with his breaths. The street light surrounds him the way divine light surrounds Shiva in stained-glass church windows. For as rugged as Gladio appears, at this moment, the only word Prompto's brain supplies is <em>ethereal.</em> (He hadn't even realized he knew that word until this moment.) And also, yeah, kind of hot. Hot enough to turn Prompto on.</p><p>Gladio looks up, sheathes his sword, and the spell breaks. Prompto blinks slowly as if closing and opening his eyes might make it clearer to him whether the last few seconds were real or not. </p><p>They head toward the sign together. </p><p>"How's Iris?" Prompto asks, breaking the silence. </p><p>"She's doing okay, all things considered." </p><p>It's the most he gives, but Prompto's okay with that. He exhales, satiated. These days just knowing the others are safe is more than enough. It means even more to him to see Gladio and Ignis these days, though seeing them smarts the Noctis-shaped wound in his heart. </p><p>"How are you holding up?" Gladio asks. </p><p>There's something soft in his voice. It's a tone Prompto has come to recognize, though he hasn't done anything about it. It reminds him of Altissia, which brings up a lot of painful memories with it, and besides, they have more important things to focus on these days than the words exchanged back then. Such as surviving, such as helping others survive, such as making sure that Noctis' sacrifice isn't for nothing. </p><p>He wants to be ready for if Noctis returns. <em>When</em> Noctis returns, he reminds himself once more. If he can't even keep that one word straight, he will lose all hope, and he's not ready to give up what little he has. </p><p>"I'm okay," he says, at last. Then, realizing he doesn't actually know whether he's okay or not, he corrects himself. "Surviving." He doesn't have a lot of time to take stock of his internal state when he's constantly worried about his physical state. He wants to clear out every damn daemon in Insomnia, and he's sure Gladio feels the exact same, so he adds, "I just wish there was more we could do. About all of this." </p><p>Gladio nods but doesn't say anything for a long minute. </p><p>When he finally speaks again, it's when they're close enough to the gas station to read the sign, to see the light pouring through the windows of the low building.  "You must be excited to see Cindy." </p><p>Prompto tilts his head. In all honesty, he hasn't thought much about Cindy recently. He doesn't feel the same rolling in his stomach as he used to when he thinks about what he might say to her. Perhaps it's just that his crush seems insignificant in comparison to everything else going on. In comparison to keeping all the refugees safe. In comparison to waiting for Noctis' return. In comparison to worrying about whether Ignis and Gladio are still out there and alive every time he's away from them. These days he aches for his friends more than for any crush. </p><p>"I was more excited to see you," he says. It's a split second later that he realizes how that sounds. Ever since Alitissia, he's been more careful about the words he chooses around Gladio, so he adds, "and Iggy." </p><p>Gladio's eyes cut sharply toward him and away. Prompto wonders if Gladio knows what just happened in Prompto's mind, but if he does, he doesn't mention it. Prompto isn't the only one, it seems, that is unwilling to finish a conversation that feels like it started a lifetime ago. </p><p>"Well," Gladio says, "let's not keep Ignis waiting." </p><p>#</p><p>Prompto can't sleep. Sleepless nights are not rare when days feel like an infinite night. It's harder to mark the differences between day and night when the sun never rises and he's always on the move from one place to another and back. </p><p>He sits outside the trailer next to Hammerhead, lighting a fire and pulling his legs up to his chest, folding into himself on the plastic chair. Tonight shouldn't be like this. He's relieved to see Gladio and Ignis.</p><p>Still, like always, it reminds him more of the missing member of their group. He doesn't know what to call his feelings about Noctis' absence besides <em>grief</em>, but he doesn't want to think that word because of what it implies. Still, naming or not naming the feeling doesn't change that it's a dense, dark cloud that wraps around his heart and curls up through his throat when he least expects it. </p><p>"What's taking you so long?" he asks like Noctis might appear out of the shadows and answer his question. </p><p>The door to the trailer squeaks open, and Gladio appears, instead. Prompto quickly wipes his sleeve at the wet bead of tears forming in the corner of his eyes and forces himself to take a deep breath, like this might quell the lump in his throat. </p><p>"Hey," Gladio says. </p><p>"Hey, yourself," Prompto replies, trying at a grin, but his own voice falters, and he flinches at the sound. </p><p>"Mind if I join you?" Gladio asks. </p><p>"Not at all." </p><p>Gladio takes a seat on the plastic chair next to him. The light from the fire dances on across his skin, illuminating and catching on his amber eyes and the thin scars that decorate his face. Prompto has to look away because it's too much, and he shouldn't be thinking about that or <em>feeling</em> that. Not now. Survival, refugees, Noctis. Those are the things that matter right now. Prompto tries his best to keep it straight, listing these items off like a mantra. Yes, Gladio is important to him. But he can't let himself think about— </p><p>"We all miss him, you know," Gladio says, cutting off Prompto's thoughts. "You can talk to us." </p><p>Now there is no chance of hiding from Gladio. His throat aches, and his eyes water, and he dabs at them frantically with the tips of his own fingers. Wetness escapes his nose too, and he wipes at that as if pressing against his own skin hard enough might force it all to stop. He realizes faintly that the shaking breathes are his own. </p><p>When he looks up, he catches Gladio's eyes once more and he wishes he didn't recognize this look. Pitying. Gladio lifts a hand like he's thinking of reaching out but thinks better of it. Prompto watches it fall, watches as Gladio's fingers curl into the palm of his hand, making a fist on his knee.</p><p>"At least talk to Ignis, yeah? He heard you get up and was worried." When he says nothing, Gladio adds, "I get why you might not want to talk to me."</p><p>Prompto blinks, surprised at the last statement. "Huh?" he asks, breaths starting to steady, fingers still dancing near his eyelids to catch the tears.</p><p>"I should have said this before now," Gladio says, "but I'm sorry."</p><p>"You're sorry?" Prompto asks, brow furrowing. Confused now. He breathes in deeply, and the tears have finally started to slow down, but Gladio is making no sense at all. What does he have to be sorry for? </p><p>"I shouldn't have— back then," Gladio says. "I shouldn't have shoved my feelings on you in Altissia. If I had known what was— Maybe I'm reading things entirely wrong, but ever since then, you've been weird around me."</p><p>"I—" Prompto tries to interrupt.</p><p>"Anyway, you don't have to worry about that."</p><p>"I don't?" Prompto asks. </p><p>Gladio shakes his head, offers a half-grin. Bittersweet. "I'm good. I promise. And, anyway, I think it's more important the three of us focus on what needs to be done. And, look, maybe I'm being presumptuous here, but I think it's probably more important that we all keep our friendship intact. For Princess, you know?"</p><p><em>Oh.</em> That's what's happening here. "Yeah," he says, exhaling the word. </p><p>This should make him feel lighter. He should feel relieved, right? Gladio has ended their conversation for him. Gladio himself thinks that their friendship is more important than any feelings between them. Not that Prompto is sure of his own feelings. Not that he was ever sure that Gladio actually meant what he said back in Altissia.</p><p>Prompto has never made sense of it. He doesn't remember the whole speech Gladio gave him, but his brain remembers one bit, highlighted in neon yellow.</p><p>
  <em>"I think I could be falling in love with you. Or maybe I already have." </em>
</p><p>That conversation, the one that they never finished. Until now, anyway. </p><p>The whole thing had come as a shock; it wasn't something he had ever expected. Gladio. <em>In love with him?</em>  Sometimes, he wonders whether he just dreamt the whole thing. Or whether it was all a fluke. So much has happened since that it's entirely likely that Gladio's feelings are a thing of the past. Fleeting. But some moments occasionally bring him back to it. Like earlier, Gladio asking him how he was in that tone. That '<em>Or maybe I already have'  </em>tone. </p><p>Prompto never had the chance to respond. Gladio stopped him short, and then soon after, the whole world went to shit, and this got lost in the shuffle. It seemed selfish to want to bring it up any point after everything. </p><p>It's difficult to imagine a guy like Gladio hung up on anyone. Harder still to believe that Prompto himself is the object of that hang-up. But Prompto has a hard time imagining anyone hung up on him or harboring any sort of attraction toward him to begin with. Perhaps that's why the exchange in Altissia had been so unexpected. Still, the fact that it was Gladio played a significant role in his confusion. He'd always imagined Gladio with someone the exact opposite of himself. A strong, intelligent, curvy woman seemed to be more Gladio's speed. </p><p>And Prompto. Prompto's used to fleeting crushes on bright, bubbly, contagiously optimistic people. Mostly on women. He hadn't even realized all his crushes on men for what they were until after that conversation. Until he started wondering what it might be like to be with someone like Gladio. It had prompted quite the self-reflection. Such self-reflection is useful for the sleepless nights when thinking about Noctis is too painful and too much, and he needs to think about anything else.</p><p>In fact, Noctis was one of those hindsight crushes. That was an embarrassing realization, one he was <em>almost</em> glad Noctis wasn't around to see. Luckily, hindsight also made it clear that the crush part of their relationship had ended right about where their friendship reached its peak. </p><p>Now, he's not quite sure how to categorize his feelings for Gladio. It's not the same as the butterflies-in-his-stomach that he used to feel before seeing Cindy. And while he is often amazed by Ignis, it's more of in the way of a proud sibling than of anything romantic or romantic-adjacent. His feelings for Gladio are not like either of those. A man who he's grateful for the friendship of one minute and absolutely captivated by the beauty of the next. It's more of a quiet appreciation rather than excited anticipation. A category all its own.</p><p>Apparently, though, he no longer has to worry about categorizing the confusing Gladio feelings. He's fine with keeping the friendship between the three of them a priority. Really, he is. What else could he possibly want?</p><p>From the beginning, Gladio had made it clear he expected nothing from Prompto. He said his piece in Altissia, and that was that. And now, here too, he's said his piece. Prompto should feel relieved. He should feel lighter at being given an answer to a question he hadn't even asked aloud. </p><p>So why does he feel heavy?</p><p>Noctis would know what to say to him. Or rather what not say. Noctis was always a great listener, despite Prompto often feeling guilty about venting his problems to the Crown Prince. He was patient. And Noctis would know how to interpret Gladio's words, having known him all their lives. Prompto finds himself at a loss.</p><p>#</p><p>Taking down red giants goes a lot faster with two people. It would be three of them, but Ignis told them he was still in the process of figuring out how to use his weapons as well as he could before. He didn't want to slow them down. </p><p>Even if Ignis doesn't feel ready, Prompto had seen him practicing yesterday. It was a sight to behold. Ignis is stronger than any of them. Prompto doesn't know how he would go on was he blinded. It certainly would make aiming much more difficult, if not impossible. He finds himself in awe of Ignis' dedication. </p><p>Two red giants tower over him and Gladio with flaming swords. They manage to take one down quickly, and then the other one looks like it's about to give in when Gladio shouts, "Behind you!" </p><p>Prompto turns on his heel, and there's another damn red giant. He swears and reloads as quickly as he can. The daemon lifts its giant flaming sword, and Prompto thinks, <em>Oh, shit,</em> and then something hard and large hits him, and he falls backward. He reorients himself in time to see Gladio take the blow of the red giant's sword. </p><p>"Fuck you," Prompto says to the red giant, though he's reasonably sure it doesn't understand human language, and then shoots it in its face multiple times. Eventually, he manages to take it down, and he rushes to Gladio's side.</p><p>"<em>Shit, shit, shit. </em>Gladio, are you okay?" </p><p>Gladio nods, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just—" He winces as he shifts, "— need to get back."</p><p>Something isn't right; that much is obvious. He's breathing too heavily, and he stumbles when he tries to stand up on his own. Prompto catches him, though it's an awkward maneuver, with Gladio being so much larger. He wraps an arm around Gladios back, hand gripping his side.</p><p>"Should I go get someone?" he asks. </p><p>"No," Gladio says, "I can make it back just—" </p><p>"You're bleeding," Prompto points out, "like a lot." </p><p>Gladio makes no move to sit back down, though, so Prompto half-drags him. The arm around Gladio feels sticky with blood, but Prompto doesn't mind as long as they make it back to stitch Gladio up. </p><p>"What happened, y'all?" Cindy asks with wide eyes when they reach Hammerhead.</p><p>"Nothing," Gladio says through gritted teeth. </p><p>"He's hurt," Prompto says, panting from the exhaustion. </p><p>Cindy ushers them into the trailer before heading to find bandages for them. Prompto helps Gladio carefully take a seat while Ignis asks what happened. Prompto tells him the whole story.</p><p>When Cindy returns, she looks at the wound on Gladio's back and winces. </p><p>"He's going to need some potions, too," Ignis says. "I guess I'll start making dinner. I'd help with— but it would be hard to help clean you up, Gladio, given my—" </p><p>"It's okay, Iggy," Gladio says, "I can clean myself up." Which Prompto realizes is a lie meant to ease Ignis' guilt. Given the placement of his wound, taking care of it on his own would require freakishly flexible shoulders. He tries to stand and inhales sharply. </p><p>Prompto catches his arm. "I've got you," he says, "come on." And once again, he's holding Gladio's side. He's almost thankful for the feel of warm skin under his curled fingertips as they make the few steps to the bathroom. Prompto wets a cloth in the sink as Gladio sits on the closed toilet, hands folded together.</p><p>He touches the wet cloth to the edge of the wound on Gladio's back. Gladio flinches. "Dammit, sorry," he says. </p><p>Prompto places his free hand on Gladio's tattooed shoulder to steady him. Gladio relaxes slightly and lets Prompto clean out the wound, now without flinching. When Prompto is satisfied, he wrings out the cloth and wets it again. He repeats the process, this time cleaning the skin around the wound. There's something cathartic about watching the dried blood give way to the inked surface of  Gladio's skin. He sighs and lets the rag drop to the floor. </p><p>He rests his forehead against Gladio's shoulder.</p><p>"Why did you do that?" he asks. He means it to sound chastising, annoyed that Gladio could do something so <em>stupid</em>, but it comes out breathless and worried instead. His fingers curl into the skin of Gladio's sides, just under his ribcage.</p><p>"Couldn't let you get hurt," Gladio replies, freely, like it's simple. </p><p>Prompto pulls back, presses his lips together for a moment, and then reaches for the bandages with shaking hands to stop himself from thinking something he shouldn't. From <em>doing</em> something he shouldn't. </p><p>He wraps the gash on Gladio's midback and says, "You could have— What if you—" </p><p>Gladio tenses at this, he turns slightly to look over his shoulder. Prompto lets his hands fall and straightens up, needing to put space between them. </p><p>"I'm fine, aren't I? Just a scratch." </p><p>"Pretty deep scratch," Prompto replies.</p><p>Gladio shrugs. "So then it might scar," he says, gently, as if it's Prompto who needs this kindness somehow. "Not the first time." </p><p>Except this is the first time a scar on Gladio would be Prompto's fault. Gladio collects scars the way other people collect rocks. So of course, to him, one more wouldn't be such a big deal. Still, Prompto swallows, eyeing the bandaged wound, and can't help but feel guilty.</p><p>"Are you—" </p><p>"Finished, yeah," Prompto says. He exhales. "I would've been fine, you didn't need to—" </p><p>"Well," Gladio says, frowning, "I did."</p><p>"I'm not weak," Prompto says, looking at the floor, frustrated.</p><p>"I know you're not."</p><p>"So then why—" </p><p>"You know why," Gladio says, and now he sounds frustrated too.</p><p>He stands, wincing in pain, and pushes Prompto's hand out of the way when he reaches out. His fingers linger for a second, just long enough for Prompto to notice, but not long enough for Prompto to catch them and squeeze them in his own the way he desperately wants to.</p><p>"I'll be fine," Gladio says. "I don't want to argue with you about this." </p><p>He watches as Gladio limps toward the bed. Prompto doesn't want to argue either. He does not want to argue, but what he does want, he can't have. He should not be thinking it; he has been through this with himself before. There are more important things. Gladio is alive. He'll be okay in a couple of days.</p><p>"I—" Prompto starts and then shuts his mouth abruptly, horrified at the words that almost escaped his lips. He shoves them back down, wishing he had somewhere to lock them away. Instead, he leaves as quickly as possible, tripping through the door of the trailer. </p><p><em>Fuck. </em> </p><p>He rests his head in the palms of his hands and takes a seat in one of the plastic chairs, panting. He was going to say, '<em>I love you.</em>' </p><p>#</p><p>"Everything all right, Prompto?" Ignis asks him. </p><p>"Um," Prompto says. He wants to ask how Ignis knew it was him and then remembers Gladio's injury means he stays in bed or Ignis chastises him.</p><p>Ignis frowns, taking the seat next to him in front of the fire. It's easy to forget, in moments like this, what Ignis has given up. He sits with the same straight posture as before. The opposite of Prompto's current slouched position. </p><p>Prompto lets out a sigh. "He pushed me out of the way when he got hurt," he says at last. And then bitterly, "I can't believe him."</p><p>Ignis nods. "He has always had a bit of a hero complex," Ignis replies. "You have to remember that he was groomed for that, though." </p><p>"I'm not Noctis," Prompto replies and then regrets saying the name aloud, bringing that black cloud up to his throat with it. "He doesn't— for me—" </p><p>Ignis, though now blind, still remains the most observant of the group. He picks up on Prompto's words and nods. "True," he says and leaves it at that, head tilted slightly, indicating that he expects more. That he knows there's more. </p><p>They've already lost Noctis. And now they'd nearly lost Gladio, too. And why? <em>You know why.</em> Prompto bites his lip. Exhales.</p><p>"Did he ever tell you what he said to me in Altissia?" </p><p>Ignis hums. "Not in so many words, no."</p><p>"Oh," Prompto replies, he folds his hands together, elbows on his knees, and looks into the fire. </p><p>"I do know of his— feelings for you. If that's what you're referring to." </p><p>Prompto's throat feels sticky as he swallows. There's a rumbling in his chest. A stampede. Nothing like butterflies. He wants so badly, still. He can't stop thinking about what he almost said, and what's the worst would have happened if he said it? The world has basically already ended. But— </p><p>"As things are right now," Ignis says, breaking through Prompto's train of thought, "it's easy to not allow ourselves any happiness. I'm guilty of it, too." </p><p>Prompto sighs. "What are you getting at, Iggy?" </p><p>"We all want to do everything we can to be ready for Noct when he returns." A pause. "Part of that is remembering what makes life worth living, too." </p><p>Ignis reaches out, and Prompto takes his friend's gloved hand. Ignis squeezes his fingers lightly. "Gladio isn't nearly as tough as he looks," Ignis reminds him.</p><p>"Oh, I know. I've seen the books he reads," Prompto says with an exhaled breath reminiscent of a laugh.</p><p>"Well then," Ignis says, pulling his hand back and standing up. "Cindy was asking me about a new recipe I'm testing out. I'd better go find her." </p><p>"Thanks, Iggy," Prompto says, smiling softly, forgetting his friend can't see it.</p><p>"Anytime, Prompto." </p><p>#</p><p>Prompto enters the trailer quietly, in case Gladio is already asleep. Gladio shifts at the sound of the door opening, one eye squinting at Prompto, the other buried in the pillow.</p><p>"Hey, Big Guy," he says.</p><p>"Hey, yourself," Gladio replies. </p><p>There's a beat of silence. One in which Prompto feels somehow sure and unsure simultaneously. What if this is a mistake? What if it isn't?</p><p>"I wanted to apologize," he starts, "for— arguing." </p><p>"Nothing to apologize for," Gladio says.</p><p>Prompto sits on the edge of the bed where Gladio rests, eyes averted. "I didn't mean to argue with you. I just— I was so worried when you got hit, and then you couldn't walk on your own and I." Prompto pauses. Swallows, despite the lump in his throat. He looks toward the wall, away from Gladio, still, because he doesn't trust himself anymore. "I couldn't forgive myself if you got hurt because of me. Or if you—" </p><p>"Blondie," Gladio says. Calloused fingertips find Prompto's shoulder, squeeze it. "It's not your fault. I'm the one who jumped." </p><p>"I still think it was stupid of you," Prompto says, biting his lip, still not looking at Gladio. </p><p>"Forgive me?" Gladio asks. </p><p>Prompto grins now, and turns to look at him, saying, "Already forgiven." </p><p>Gladio's eyes are intense, and on him, and he feels exposed. He's unsure of how to name the blooming in his chest, only is painfully aware of its existence as he catches his breath. Has Gladio always been this beautiful, or is Prompto losing his mind? He glances at Gladio's lips.</p><p>"I—" He starts, and has to stop. Lick his lips. Swallow. "I want to try something." </p><p>And he leans forward. </p><p>Gladio's breath grazes his skin, and then he pushes at Prompto's chest gently. </p><p>"Don't," he says. "Not unless you mean it. You don't owe me for saving your ass." </p><p>Prompto exhales slowly. He looks away from Gladio's face to where his hands sit atop the sheets of the bed.</p><p>"I haven't— I haven't gotten it out of my head," he says. </p><p>"Haven't got what out of your head?" Gladio asks. </p><p>Prompto looks up to meet Gladio's gaze. "You," he says carefully. "What you said in Altissia." He reaches out to touch Gladio's face, hesitant, but Gladio doesn't stop him. His fingers carefully trace the scar across Gladio's forehead. And then the one down his cheek. Gladio closes his eyes momentarily, to allow him. "It doesn't make sense that you would— I almost convinced myself it wasn't real." </p><p>Gladio wets his lips with his tongue. An action Prompto's eyes are far too interested in watching. </p><p>"It was real," he says. </p><p>"Do you—" Prompto starts, unsure now. He can feel the crease between his eyebrows. "Do you still—" </p><p>"Yes," Gladio breathes. </p><p>He leans in once more this time, anticipating the hand on his chest, but it doesn't come. He touches his forehead to Gladio's, palm cupping the back of the other man's head, fingers twisted into his hair. It is not enough. It takes everything in him to hold himself back even for this short second. He has never wanted something so fiercely.</p><p>"I mean it," he says.</p><p>His lips touch Gladio's. It is that for only a moment, and then Gladio's hands are on his waist, pulling him in closer. His hands find Gladio's chest, fingers tracing along every facet of skin, every ridge of every muscle, trying to memorize everything, trying to convince himself that this is real for when he remembers it on a sleepless night alone in the future.</p><p>Their kiss deepens. Prompto's hands grow more courageous, pressing, and grabbing more firmly. Gladio's hands roam, too, now, leaving trails of heat in their wake. As if he, too, has only just realized that this is real. That Prompto is real. Prompto feels extremely worked up, and it must be evident to Gladio when Prompto grinds his hips against Gladio's thigh.</p><p>"Prom," Gladio says, catching his Prompto's hand in his own, breaking off the kiss, "if you keep doing that, you're going to drive me crazy. And—" </p><p>"Your injury," Prompto says, having stupidly forgotten. "Yeah." </p><p>Gladio looks starved, his eyes so hungry on Prompto. Even that makes Prompto feel heady. He forces himself to breathe. To say, "I— That can wait 'til you're feeling up to it." </p><p>Gladio's fingers tighten around his wrist. "Good," he says, voice low, "because I want to fuck you right the first time." </p><p>Prompto's eyes go wide, and he can feel his cheeks and his chest heating up, and thank the gods he isn't as allergic to shirts as Gladio, because his cheeks are embarrassing enough. For the first time, maybe ever in his life, he's at a loss for words. </p><p>At length, he says, "You should get some rest."</p><p>Gladio grunts in response, and Prompto reluctantly extricates himself.</p><p>#</p><p>He does not want to say goodbye to either of them. </p><p>Gladio has Iris to think about, though. And Ignis is still working on perfecting his skills in cooking and dagger-wielding. And Prompto made a promise that he'd help the refugees heading to Lestallum. He tells himself that this goodbye is not permanent. He will see them again. </p><p>He hugs Ignis, likely more tightly than the other man would prefer. Ignis returns the hug though and pats Prompto's shoulder as they pull away.</p><p>"I'll see you," Prompto says, "soon." </p><p>"And I, you," Ignis replies, and then grins, "Figuratively, of course." </p><p>Prompto lets out a surprised laugh at the joke.</p><p>He turns to Gladio, not quite ready to face him. It seems unfair to be leaving so soon. There's so much more Prompto wants to do with him. <em>To</em> him, too. It makes it easier knowing that they'll be back here and reunited soon, though nothing could possibly be soon enough. </p><p>He takes a deep breath. Gladio catches his chin between two fingers.  </p><p>"Blondie," he says. </p><p>"Big Guy," Prompto replies. </p><p>Gladio kisses him. Prompto feels like his lips are on fire. Like that fire might consume his whole being. He wants to stay here forever. Eventually, he allows himself to pull back. Reluctantly. </p><p>Gladio wraps him in a crushing embrace, and Prompto returns it as best he can, careful of the half-healed wound. Gladio's lips are in his hair. </p><p>"Come back safe," he says, voice near a whisper. </p><p>"I will," Prompto assures. "Don't go jumping in front of any more red giant's swords." </p><p>Gladio chuckles. "No promises." </p><p>Prompto leans upward to give him a final (for now,) fleeting kiss. "I love you," he says at last, and he feels lighter the second the words leave his tongue. He wonders whether he's been holding them in for longer than he realizes. </p><p>"I love you, too," Gladio says. He pushes him. "Now get out of here before I do something stupid like follow you." </p><p>Prompto exhales a soundless laugh and walks backward a few paces before turning to jog towards the group of refugees he'll be escorting to Lesallum.</p><p>One month, he tells himself. He will see them both in one month.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x6Ivm3au5XM">nitesky - robot koch ft. john lamonica</a>
</p><hr/><p>i was never planning on writing this, and definitely not like a year and a half after the other promptio one-shot i've written, but where would any of us be without our random creative impulses? </p><p>kudos, comments, etc. optional but <i>always</i> appreciated.</p><p>you can find me on twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/keishn_">@keishn_</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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